


In Which There Are No Interruptions

by redmagexii



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Dates, F/F, First Dates, Hollstein - Freeform, Laura Hollis/Carmilla Karnstein Fluff, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5648101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redmagexii/pseuds/redmagexii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there are no interruptions.  Where Amazons don’t burst in and 17th Century vampires don’t get captured.  Where Laura sees through a date with her beautiful, sociopathic roommate from beginning to end – and all the consequences thereafter.</p><p>(Alternate series one, from episode 17.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which There Are No Interruptions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ServeMeTheSky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ServeMeTheSky/gifts).



> A story in which Laura and Carmilla's first date goes uninterrupted. It's told in multiple parts and is dedicated to ServeMeTheSky, because she dared to do something nice for me. As a result, it is now officially on.

 

 

“God, what am I doing?”

If it hadn’t been said _like that_ – in that low, silky-smooth voice – Laura would have thought the words were hers.  Because what in the hell _was_ she doing?  Really?  She had already schemed to go on a date with a vampire; now she had ogled Carmilla without even meaning to, eyes darting from exposed cleavage to full red lips.

Not that there was really a way to avoid paying attention to Carmilla.  Their faces were only inches apart.  Carmilla had tugged Laura’s chair closer – _too_ close – and, although they weren’t touching, Laura could now officially _feel_ her: her dark, smouldering gaze, the vibrations of her words in the air and the presence of her body, so strong it was practically an aura.  Laura realised they had never been this close to one another.

The party raged on downstairs.  The bass pounded through the floorboards; Laura was sure it was making her champagne stir.

It would be an understatement to say Laura was panicking.  Her phone had been tossed far from reach, and Danny and the others were waiting at the party, blissfully unaware of Carmilla’s last-minute venue change.  Both of these eventualities were bad enough, but what Laura was really, _really_ regretting at this particular juncture was that her plan had failed to factor in one very important detail: Carmilla Karnstein was extremely attractive.

The irksome nicknames, sidelong glowers and insistence on riling Laura at every available opportunity had granted Laura an impressive ability to ignore Carmilla’s beauty thus far. Yet now Carmilla was being nice to her, and her attention – her super-intense, making-polite-conversation, flirting-like-crazy attention – was fully laser-focused on her.  Not to mention Carmilla was so gloomy and introspective she might as well have had a little cartoon storm cloud hanging over her head.  Whenever Laura saw this level of vampire angst on TV she would roll her eyes.  On Carmilla, however, she found herself drawn in, yearning to understand those troubled frowns and soulful, pensive expressions.

Suddenly everything Laura had refused point blank to acknowledge was coming blazing back into focus: those fine cheekbones, her dark hair and that ivory pale skin, _way_ too much of which was on show in that godforsaken corset.  Suddenly Laura was worried that the reason she was so raw around Carmilla wasn’t because she hated her, or at least not _just_ because she hated her, but because… because…

“And yet,” Carmilla said, taking Laura’s ponytail between her fingertips, “there’s something about you.”

Her grip ran from the base of Laura’s hair to the ends, almost like she was stroking the tail of a cat.  Laura’s lips parted involuntarily at the sensation.  Dear God, that felt good.  How could _anything_ feel that good?  How could advances from a sociopathic fiend from hell feel _that good?_   The touch was controlled yet seemingly effortless, as if Carmilla knew exactly how and where to touch another woman.  Like she had seduced so many times it had become second nature.

Not that this helped Carmilla’s case, of course.  All of it pointed clearly – seriously, like, billboards and neon signs and foghorns and sirens and megaphones clearly – to Carmilla being guilty as anything.  Yet, in spite of these alarm bells, Laura was also starting to appreciate how even a rumour about cold sores hadn’t stemmed Carmilla’s endless tide of ‘study buddies’.

Carmilla was just that good.

“Maybe it’s my keen fashion sense,” Laura parried valiantly, attempting to wrest back her faculties even as her laboured breathing got away from her.  She drew in air as slowly as she could, holding her breath a moment before exhaling shakily.

“No.”  Carmilla’s gaze burned, touched over parts of her.  She sought Laura’s eyes, and Laura was compelled to gaze back.  Holy crap, could those eyes smoulder.  “It’s definitely not that.”

She was dangerous, Laura lectured herself.  Dangerous, and if Laura wasn’t careful she would be totally screwed.  This whole sexy act was how Carmilla got girls to sleep with her.  This was how she kidnapped girls.  _This was how girls got killed._   Laura battled to remember this information but her body heeded none of it.  She couldn’t even look away.  For all she had learned about Carmilla, she was such a deer in headlights it was embarrassing.

Carmilla’s gaze dropped to Laura’s lips and Laura’s gaze dropped to Carmilla’s.  There were fangs in there, a rational voice screamed.  Actual freaking fangs.  Deadly fangs.  Carmilla was going to bite her, and Laura knew it, and she wasn’t so much as attempting to get away.

Was it magic?  Maybe it was vampire magic.  Or, like, special pheromones.  LaFontaine would probably figure it out later, when they found her stone cold, sucked dry corpse in the aftermath of this disaster.

Carmilla leaned closer until they were almost nose to nose.  Expensive-smelling perfume rammed at Laura’s senses, something heady and grown-up, warm and woody and spiced.  She smelt good, as ridiculously good as she looked and sounded.  Her breath tickled Laura’s cheek.  Laura swallowed hard.  Her pulse pumped in her ears.  (Perhaps she couldn’t move because Carmilla had somehow rearranged her organs and put her heart into her skull.)

This is it, Laura thought.  This is how I’m going to die.  Yet those final inches Carmilla refused to close.  She paused, seeming conflicted, maybe even nervous.  She even looked a tiny bit vulnerable.  If Laura hadn’t known better, she wouldn’t have been able to distinguish her from any other young woman on a date.

Then the moment seemed to pass.  There was a beat in their interaction somewhere, some allotted window where an advance would have been acceptable, and it had apparently come and gone because Carmilla averted her gaze.  Laura wouldn’t have known it existed if she hadn’t seen the regret in her eyes.  Carmilla’s frustration with herself was controlled but evident all the same, and she started to pull away with a tight smile.

Laura watched that smile.  She watched those red lips turn up and thin to a fine line, watched emotions flit, one after another, across Carmilla’s face.  Laura told herself she was lucky.  Panic over for now, right?  Death cancelled on account of well-timed angst.  Crisis averted.

At least, it probably would have been if Laura hadn’t kissed her.


	2. A Date With A Sociopath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos! Here is chapter two, where I finally get to be a bit more creative. Hope you like it.

_What am I doing?_

Laura thought the words again from somewhere in a haze, her lips moving against Carmilla’s.  She could taste the barest hint of champagne.  Carmilla was kissing back gently and slowly, her hand cupping Laura’s face.  She was so soft.  Laura’s mind was blank, the chattering monologue therein silenced by sensation, by the need to match Carmilla’s movements, however tentatively.  For those seconds, Laura forgot about the plan, forgot everything she had learned about Carmilla.  The rest of the world lost meaning, vanished from her periphery like it was imagined all along.

It ended, of course.  It had to.  Laura vaguely registered a faint smashing sound; distant applause erupted far below.  Somebody had dropped a glass.  It broke the spell between them and, abruptly, Carmilla pulled back.  Laura almost followed her but remembered herself in time and refrained.  She cast a nervous glance at Carmilla (had her eyes become darker?) but Carmilla dodged Laura’s gaze.  She groped for the champagne flutes on the table.

 “We really shouldn’t waste this,” she said stiffly.

“R-right,” Laura replied and reached for her own so hastily she almost knocked it over.  She put it to her lips without drinking and set it back down, mindful of Perry’s concerns over spiking.

Although, obviously, _kissing_ the vampire is perfectly fine, she chastised herself.

For a few agonising moments, neither of them spoke.  Laura couldn’t believe what she had done, nor could she help but notice the large gulp Carmilla took from her glass.  Carmilla subtly licked the champagne from her lip and leant forward, elbows balanced on her thighs.  They were still cramped together.  Laura didn’t know what to do.  Should she move further away?  Make a joke?  Apologise?  Should she abort the mission entirely and run screaming from the room?  Her heart hammered; she felt like she was having a panic attack.

“Better than the Amazon?”

“What?” Laura asked.

Carmilla was regarding her again with curiosity; eye contact was apparently back on the agenda.  Whatever it was that had caused her to waver, she had decidedly returned to form now.  Caught off-guard and still somewhat dazed, Laura tried to register what Carmilla was asking.  She blinked a few times, attempting to snap herself out of it.  “Uh, no.  Danny and I haven’t kissed.”

Carmilla’s eyebrows rose elegantly in surprise.  She inclined her head in something close to amusement, smiling genuinely.  “She’s a fool.  If you looked at me the way you look at her, I’d make sure everyone knew you were mine.  Before you invited a dark horse to stargaze in your bedroom.” 

Laura wanted to make a comment about the outdated notion of owning a partner.  She wanted to tell Carmilla to lay off Danny and object to the inflection of Carmilla’s voice when she said ‘bedroom’.  Instead, all of her words caught.  Carmilla’s gaze was steady and intense.  Then she seemed to interpret Laura’s silence as negative and shook her head uncomfortably.

“Sorry,” she said, and actually sounded it.  Was that Laura’s first ever Karnstein-trademarked apology?  Laura was pretty sure it was.  “I’m being petty.  Seeing you with someone else makes me… childish.”

“Wait, you really like me?”

Laura was quite prepared not to believe a single word of Carmilla’s answer, but she blurted the question anyway.  Carmilla laughed in self-deprecation and set her own glass back on the table.

“Ridiculous, isn’t it, when there are so many unattached girls out there?  The vast majority of whom don’t have a chore wheel for me to ignore.”

Backhanded compliments all the way.  Laura made a face and couldn’t resist a jab in return.  “Yeah, well, apparently they don’t have their own beds, either.”

Carmilla bit her lip.  Laura wanted to bite it instead.  Then she wanted to slap herself.

“Teasing you _is_ oddly satisfying,” Carmilla conceded.  Her voice was a fraction lower than before.  “Although, tonight I’ve learned that getting your pupils to dilate is infinitely more interesting.  Perhaps if I stopped doing the former you’d consider letting the latter become a habit.”

Laura felt her stomach fall out.  Was Carmilla actually implying they should become make-out buddies?  She rubbed her bare shoulder in a subconscious gesture of defensiveness.  Having so much skin exposed made her feel vulnerable, but at least it stopped her from getting too hot under the collar – over a _vampire_ , she reminded herself sternly.

“Y-you should stick to your side anyway,” Laura chided, stifling a blush.  “I know you’re basically nocturnal, but our sleep schedules do overlap.  Where am _I_ supposed to go while you’re… _dark horsing_ around?”

Carmilla smirked.  “You say that as if the two are mutually exclusive.  You want to be in your bed.  I want to get my kicks in your bed.  There is a way we could both get what we want.”

Laura shot up from her chair, red as a beetroot, and held up a hand to Carmilla.  Ire shot to the surface and she grasped it like a lifeline, glad for a familiar emotion, an emotion she knew how to deal with in present company.

“Whoa.  Okay.  I don’t know _what_ kind of girl you think I am, but I am not one of your simpering study buddies.  Maybe this was a bad idea.”

That was putting it lightly.  A bad idea was chasing five root beer floats with half a batch of brownies.  Going on a date with a killer vampire she definitely (maybe) hated took poor decision-making to whole new frontiers of crazy.

“Hey.”

Carmilla’s hand was on her arm.  The touch was gentle, but Laura hadn’t even seen Carmilla move.  Her fingertips grazed their way down, over Laura’s elbow, tracing her wrist and threading their digits together.  Carmilla lifted their intertwined hands, and Laura’s heartbeat quickened.  They fit so well.  It almost felt…

Don’t finish that thought, Laura Hollis.

“I was flattered you asked me,” Carmilla said.  There was sincerity in her tone.  Laura didn’t quite know what to do with it.  The height difference between them was negligible, but it felt bigger in that moment.  Carmilla seemed to almost stoop to peer at her, that heavy, dark fringe skimming mascara-thick lashes.  For a fleeting, pathologically insane moment, Laura thought about brushing it out of her eyes.

“I’m not great at showing it,” Carmilla continued, “because it’s been an extremely long time since I’ve felt…”

She caught herself, seemed to reconsider and started again.  Where had _that_ sentence been going? Laura mused.  Carmilla tilted her head to the side, looking as close to sheepish as a sullen vampire possibly could.

“And, I’ll admit, I do take a little too much pleasure in provoking you.  But stay.  I promised you stars, didn’t I?”

Laura hesitated.  This was the perfect opportunity to make her escape, but then what was she supposed to do?  If she stayed, she would be fending off Carmilla alone.  The odds didn’t exactly favour her there.  However, if she left, the plan would fail and she wouldn’t find out where the missing girls were.  She’d never get another opportunity this good; Carmilla probably wouldn’t put the moves on her again, not to mention the Zetas wouldn’t appreciate being stood up after agreeing to help out.  Her back-pocket army would drop her in a heartbeat.

Without them I might as well climb aboard the Silas Enterprise and sign up as a redshirt, she thought.  The Zetas may be idiots, but if I piss them off I won’t even be able to take Carmilla by force.  As in, tie her up.  No, as in hold her prisoner.  No.  Jeez.  _Insert non-innuendo here._ What is _wrong_ with me?!

 “Actually, I think _I_ promised _you_ stars.”  Laura said grudgingly.  She shook her head in resignation.   “Fine.  I guess I do believe in second chances.”

Carmilla smiled faintly.  “Perhaps I should, too.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Carmilla said.  She released Laura to reach for her leather jacket, which at some point had been tossed haphazardly to the foot of her bed.  “We should get going.”

“Going?  Going where?”

 “Well, if I’m to redeem myself and you’re to honour that promise of yours, we should go somewhere with a view.”

Carmilla donned the jacket and picked up both glasses, tucking the champagne bottle under her arm.  She headed for the door, hips swaying in a way Laura was sure was intentional, and opened it with her free hand, smiling seductively.

 “Coming?” she asked.

“I…”  Laura cast a surreptitious glance back at her phone and her still-running camera.  There was no way for her to get to them without Carmilla suspecting something.  She made up her mind.  “Uh, sure.  Lead the way.”

With that, Laura accepted Carmilla’s display of chivalry, passing through the open doorway ahead of her.  Carmilla closed the door behind them and took Laura’s hand once more, escorting her through the dormitories to God only knew what fate.  Laura had no choice but to follow her there.

At least, that’s what she told herself.


	3. Deep in Radio Silence

The dormitory roof was off-limits to students, its gargantuan padlock so ornate it could have been hundreds of years old.  Laura had pointed this out on the way up, hoping to head somewhere her friends would be able to find them, but Carmilla had ignored her, insisting the lock was so rusted it would break right off.

“See what I mean?” she said, yanking it from the door with a swift jerk.  It clattered to the floor.  Laura did see what Carmilla meant: it certainly was a very old lock, and very old locks didn’t stand a chance against a freakishly strong creature of Hades.  Most probably, neither did Laura.

Once they were outside, Laura hung back from Carmilla, taking stock of her surroundings.  Spaced evenly around the rooftop were several weatherworn bench tables.

“Why are these up here?”

Presently Carmilla was crouched a few yards away, messing with a baby blue bag Laura recognised as Betty’s suitcase from frosh week.  She had set the bottle and glasses down on a neighbouring bench.

“A very long time ago,” she said, “this place was a beer garden.  But in ’94 a girl got attacked, so they closed it down.  So I’ve heard, anyway.

1994\.  Exactly twenty years ago. How interesting.

“So you heard,” Laura echoed, eyeing Carmilla carefully.  “I mean, it’s not like you could’ve actually been there.  Neither of us was even born, right?”

Carmilla faltered in her task.  “Nope.  Not even born.”

She took a thin comforter from the bag, shook it out to its full size and laid it on one of the tables.  Laura watched her smooth it over apprehensively.  And here she had thought they were going to roast some marshmallows, not snuggle up on her missing roommate’s spare bedding.

“When did you bring that up here?” she asked.  “Actually, _how_ did you bring that up here?  This place is never unlocked.”

Her voice didn’t carry as well outside.  It made this whole evening seem even more like a dream.  Carmilla pulled out a blanket next, offering her a mysterious smile.

“Certain things are better left to the imagination.”

“What if enquiring minds want to know?” Laura challenged.  Carmilla looked amused.  Her task complete, she sauntered back over to Laura, her voice disarmingly husky.

“There are some questions even journalists shouldn’t ask.”

Laura shot her a look and hugged herself tightly, exhaling steam into the October air.  Autumn in Austria: she should have known to grab a coat when Carmilla had. Then again, it wasn’t the first time her brain had failed her tonight.  Carmilla caught the chatter of her teeth and her cockiness dissipated, replaced immediately by a look of concern.

“Take my jacket,” she said, moving closer.

Laura backed up a step and shook her head.  “Then _you’ll_ be cold.”

“I’m a…” Carmilla cleared her throat.  “I don’t feel the cold.”

I bet you don’t, Laura mused, but was touched by the offer.  She softened a little in spite of herself.

“Still, you’re wearing less than me under there.  I can’t just steal your clothes.”

“Why not?  _I_ wear other people’s clothes all the time.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Laura said, quirking her eyebrows at her.  “You’re not exactly the poster child for lawful good.”

“Wear it or share it, cupcake,” Carmilla said with a smirk.  She opened the jacket in invitation.  Laura suddenly felt more than warm enough.

“Fine,” Laura squeaked.  Pleased with her victory, Carmilla shrugged off the garment and wrapped it around Laura’s shoulders.  Laura held it in place and smiled awkwardly.

“Thanks.”

Carmilla smiled back, her gaze drifting over her.  The look wasn’t predatory but it made Laura nervous all the same.

“W-what?” Laura asked.  Carmilla bit her bottom lip and released it.  Transfixed, Laura watched it pop from beneath her teeth.

“Men are foolish,” Carmilla said in that low, sultry tone, “but they’re right about one thing.  Placing your coat around a girl’s shoulders has a certain timeless appeal.  It wards off other suitors… sends a message that she’s yours.  At least for tonight.”

The moonlight sculpted the contours of Carmilla’s face, seemed to sharpen and soften her shadows all at once.  Dark eyes bored into Laura’s.  Laura fought not to fall into them.

“Women _are_ people, you know,” she said, attempting to sound indignant.  She wondered if Carmilla could hear the tremor in her voice.  “You can’t just call dibs on someone because you kept her warm.”

Carmilla shrugged loosely.  “Perhaps not,” she said, “but it buys you time to offer what you can; and when that time is up, there’s a chance _she’ll_ want to make you _hers_.”

Wow.  What the hell was Laura supposed to say to that?  Carmilla gave her another small smile, almost shy, and ran her hands down Laura’s arms.  Laura couldn’t feel it much through the leather, but imagined it, a phantom touch, just like in her room when Carmilla had urged her to stay.

Laura couldn’t stop herself.  She bridged the gap and kissed Carmilla again.  The leather pinched slightly where Carmilla gripped it, but Carmilla wasn’t holding Laura, and Laura’s arms remained at her sides.  It was a chaste kiss, extremely so, and when it ended Carmilla rested her forehead against Laura’s.  Her eyes were closed, her face captivatingly at peace.

At the sight, Laura couldn’t quite contain a shiver.  Carmilla noticed again, of course, and frowned.

“You’re still cold,” she guessed.  Not untrue, but not the reason Laura was shaking.  Laura couldn’t exactly explain that to her, so she remained silent.  Carmilla rubbed at Laura’s arms to offer some heat, then slipped her hands beneath the jacket and rubbed roughly at Laura’s back.  Laura stiffened at first but eventually relaxed, aware that Carmilla’s intentions were likely honourable.  Their bare collarbones brushed accidentally and Laura startled at the contact: Carmilla’s skin was even cooler than hers.

“ _I’m_ cold?  You’re _freezing_.”

“It doesn’t matter.  I told you, I don’t feel cold.”

“You don’t have to feel the cold to catch a cold,” Laura remarked, realising as she did that she was quoting her father, and that colds probably didn’t apply to vampires anyway.

Carmilla didn’t respond.  Her hands slowed, settling at Laura’s waist.  She was almost hugging her.  There was still a quarter-step between them, and Carmilla closed it so that their bodies were flush against one another.  Their stomachs met.  Their toes touched.  Carmilla rested her chin on Laura’s shoulder.  She turned her face into the crook of Laura’s neck, inhaling softly.

It felt nice.

Then, sudden as a gunshot, Laura remembered: this was the seduction, and Carmilla was a vampire, and wasn’t Laura, you know, _next_ and everything?  She was supposed to be luring Carmilla into a trap – she was _supposed_ to be crushing on Danny – and she had spent the whole evening off the radar, drowning beneath Carmilla’s words and _kissing her._   And now, her vampire kidnapper roommate’s mouth was right up against her throat and said roommate was in prime position to chow down.

Great.  Fantastic.  The transformation into Lucy from _Dracula_ was officially complete.  The 2014 Lucy Award went to Laura Hollis.  She had Lucied.  She had _totally_ Lucied out.

Yet Laura couldn’t find it within herself to break their embrace.  She didn’t _want_ to break it.  Somehow, she almost didn’t believe Carmilla would actually go through with it, even though rationally Laura knew that was ridiculous.  Based on what evidence?  A few thoughtful expressions and a little flirting?

Laura’s heart battered her ribcage, but she couldn’t work out whether it was down to the fear she was supposed to be feeling or because Carmilla was so close and so comfortable, and smelt like apples, and… wait, was that _Laura’s_ body wash?  Oh, why was she even surprised?

Laura waited.  She waited for Carmilla to bite, to kill her like the stupid, hapless victim she had turned out to be.  Yet Carmilla didn’t.  She just held her.  Time passed.  Then Laura’s hands tentatively reached for the lapels of the jacket.  She opened them and slid her arms around Carmilla, sheltering her as best she could.

“What are you doing?” Carmilla asked softly.  Her voice hummed through Laura’s skin.

Laura swallowed hard.  She clutched Carmilla a fraction tighter.

“Sharing.”


	4. Let the Stars Fall Where They May

This rooftop felt eternal, like they had always been here and would be forever.  It made sense but didn’t.  _Carmilla_ made sense but didn’t.  Laura felt as though she was seeing her through the wrong lens, like she couldn’t pull her into focus, like she had never truly seen her for what she was.  Laura wondered if it was even possible, or if Carmilla’s mystery was just as much a part of her… if she was like darkness, only visible through the absence of light.

Carmilla drew away from their embrace, tugging her with the barest of pressures in the direction of the comforter before releasing her completely.  Laura’s arms felt empty.

“Are you sure you want to stay?” she asked.  “Seems like it’s getting even darker up here.”

 “‘I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night’,” Carmilla recited idly.

Laura watched her walk backwards towards the table, her gait poised and graceful.  Laura missed her warmth.  She missed her perfume.  She missed her vampire roommate’s voice, whispering to her bones and singing to her blood.  She missed her own rationality less and less.

An hour ago, Laura had been certain of a great deal.  Now she didn’t know what to believe.  All she knew was that she still needed the truth, and, for whatever reason, had a theory she could find it, if only she could gaze into Carmilla’s eyes a little longer.  That, however, was turning out to be a perilous game.  Laura wondered how close to the fire she would have to get; she told herself she wasn’t close enough, assured herself she was not already stood amongst the kindling.

“It is a good view,” she admitted, and moved slowly towards her.

“Would have been better a couple centuries ago,” Carmilla said, and made a face more befitting of her usual persona.  “The modern age has its advantages but light pollution isn’t one of them.”

Laura looked her up and down suspiciously.  “I never figured you for eco-conscious.”

“Yeah, well.  I’ve seen enough beautiful things get ruined in my life,” Carmilla muttered.  She sounded bitter but slipped seamlessly back into bravado; if Laura had blinked she’d have missed the change.  “If you ask me, people should shut them all off.  They’d learn something.”

She stepped onto the bench and climbed up onto the table, taking a seat on the comforter.  Laura quirked her eyebrows sceptically.  “ _That’d_ be dangerous.  Then we’d all be stumbling around in the dark.”

“Humans stumble around in the dark anyway.”  Carmilla pouted flirtatiously, almost daring Laura with her tone.  “At least a little danger would make things interesting.”

She held out a hand to pull Laura up and Laura accepted, stumbling up onto the comforter and sitting beside her.  She could feel the planks through the material, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable.  Carmilla laid her legs flat, but Laura crossed hers, resolving to remain upright for however long they were here.  The thought of bunking down with Carmilla was just a little too ridiculous to contemplate.

Carmilla draped the blanket around them both before retrieving the champagne flutes from the bench beside them.  The glass was so cold it hurt Laura’s fingertips.  Carmilla seemed to almost enjoy the silence that followed, but it gave Laura the jitters.  Eventually her patience snapped.

“Well, here we are,” she said awkwardly.  She gestured above them with a wide sweep of her free hand.  “Welcome to the guided tour of the universe.  On your left, you’ll see stars.”

In her edginess, her voice sounded loud and out of place, and she immediately felt she was intruding upon Carmilla’s serenity.  If Carmilla minded, she didn’t show it.  Her eyes twinkled, more bewitching than anything the sky could offer, but didn’t respond, apparently content to let Laura flounder in her own babble-fest.

“So, what’s your favourite constellation,” Laura persisted, “since you like stars so much?”

She felt Carmilla’s eyes on her, quite possibly because it was such an awful question.  It achieved a reaction, albeit not a helpful one for Laura’s nerves.  Carmilla leant nearer to point along Laura’s line of sight, and Laura became intensely aware that her knee was against Carmilla’s thigh.

“You can see it,” Carmilla said.  She traced between several different stars in a pattern Laura vaguely approximated to a clothes hanger.  “Leo.”

“Leo the Lion,” Laura echoed.  “Guess that means you’re a cat person.”

“In a manner of speaking,” Carmilla smirked.  “Not just any lion: the Nemean Lion.  He was twice as big and had an indestructible hide.  You’ve probably heard of some of his siblings: Cerberus, the Hydra, the Sphinx—”

“So, not as cute as the ones on the Discovery Channel,” Laura quipped.

“Depends who you ask.  Selene adored him.”

“Selene?”

“A minor moon goddess.  Amongst… other things.  There,” Carmilla said, pointing to a particularly dazzling star in the group.  “Regulus, the prince.”

“It’s beautiful,” Laura said.  She meant it.  “And really bright.”

“In Arabic it’s called Qalb al-Asad: ‘the heart of the lion’.”

“That’s a pretty big heart,” Laura said offhand.  Carmilla looked at her in a way Laura didn’t quite understand, then cleared her throat and turned her attention back to the stars.  She motioned to another constellation.

“Boötes.  Also known as Icarius.  The god Dionysus showed him how to make wine.  He offered it to some peasants but, when they experienced symptoms of drunkenness, they assumed he’d poisoned them.  So, for his generosity, he was killed,” she concluded flippantly.

Laura pulled a face, her nose crinkling.  “That’s depressing.”

“That’s what you get for helping people.  Think of it as a cautionary tale, creampuff.  Speaking of offering wine, you’ve barely touched your champagne.”

No duh.  Granted, Laura wasn’t doing the grandest job of resisting a vampire, but she still had more sense than to just drink whatever Carmilla offered, no matter how expensive it was.  Apparently the jig was up.  She searched for a defence, eyeing her full glass self-consciously.

“Some of us aren’t used to drinking.”

“All the more reason to practise now.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

Laura narrowed her eyes at her, but Carmilla only laughed.  “I don’t need mind-altering substances to work my wiles on you, cutie.  I’d just prefer it if I wasn’t the only one drinking.  Especially when _you’re_ the one who keeps kissing _me_.  Who knows what you’ll do once my judgement is impaired?”

“Please,” Laura scoffed.  “As if your judgement’s impaired at all.  You’re not even tipsy.”

“Drunkenness isn’t all physiological,” Carmilla breezed.  “It’s in the mind, as well.”

“So, what?  You’re drunk on my company?” Laura asked disbelievingly.  At Carmilla’s earnest expression she snorted.  “Oh, come on.”

Carmilla’s lip curled ever so slightly.  She looked to the sky, enigma personified.  An artist could have drawn her in that moment, in oils or pastels or chalks, and the result wouldn’t have come close to the real thing.  Laura was sure of it.  Then Carmilla spoke.

“I’m drinking the devil’s water beneath heavenly bodies, thinking things I shouldn’t about a girl I ought to leave alone.  There are few things more intoxicating than that.”

The words washed over Laura, gloomier than the night and denser than any singularity.  They made her forget herself again, and she drank deeply from her champagne glass.  The effect was immediate, seeming to breach her tired mind as soon as it slid down her throat.  Giving in to Carmilla was becoming a dangerous habit in a matter of minutes, and the fact that she also found it wonderful scared her half to death.  She scrabbled to segue, for a way not to think about her eroding defences.  She swallowed a mouthful of champagne and hastily pointed towards the one constellation she recognised.

 “I know that one,” Laura said.  “Ursa Major, the big ol’ bear.”

“Actually, Callisto was very beautiful,” Carmilla remarked.  Laura looked at her questioningly and she continued.  “She was a woman before.  Zeus was infatuated with her.  His wife, Hera, became jealous, so she turned Callisto into a bear.”

“What else is new?” Laura deadpanned.  “I’m no expert, but those two were pretty much a double act, right?”

  “Pretty much,” Carmilla said.  She peered at the moon through her empty glass.  “Between them, they caused trouble for a lot of young women.”

“Those poor girls,” Laura said wistfully.  “All that rape and murder and… well, _bear-ifying_.  And it wasn’t even their fault.  They just happened to be considered attractive by someone else.  I guess that’s mythology: a bunch of super-powered morons who see a pretty girl and can’t possibly restrain themselves.  Talk about drama.”

Carmilla chuckled.  “It’s not drama.  It’s passion.  Granted the rape and murder is a little much… but if gods are fools for the exquisiteness of mortal women, I think I can empathise.”

Carmilla’s eyes searched Laura’s.  Laura all but gawped back before returning her gaze to Ursa Major, desperate to look at anything but Carmilla.  The two of them returned to silence.

Laura had been expecting to grab some food at the party, and hadn’t been able to eat beforehand due to nerves.  Drinking on an empty stomach was catching up with her already.  Somewhere in her slightly drunken consciousness, she registered that the music had stopped downstairs.  It occurred to her she should question why, but she couldn’t seem to muster the energy.  Instead, she traced the stars with her eyes, lost in other thoughts.

“She’s still pretty, though,” she decided.  Carmilla shifted beside her.

“Mm?”

“Callisto.”

Carmilla raised her eyebrows doubtfully.  “You think the beast is beautiful?  Even with all those teeth and claws?”

“Well, yeah,” Laura shrugged.  “It doesn’t matter what’s on the outside.  Inside she’s the same person.  Under all that fur, she’s still just a girl, right?”

Carmilla said nothing to that.  She talked about other constellations, about Cygnus and Draco and Pegasus.  The longer Laura listened, the more her hopes dwindled that the cavalry would save her, and the less she could bring herself to mind.  Perhaps it was the booze, but she found herself wanting to delay their timely interruption, that she wanted to hear the end of Carmilla’s stories more than she wanted her rescue.  When her expectations that they would ever appear finally faded to embers, Laura found herself almost relieved.

There was, however, one matter Laura had yet to resolve.  She had come here with a purpose, and she had to at least try to see it through, even if the circumstances weren’t as she had imagined.  Emboldened, she addressed Carmilla.

“Hey.  I want to ask you something.”

Carmilla granted permission with only a look, waiting patiently for Laura to continue.  Laura attempted to work out how to best to say what she needed to say, how to go about it without causing too much damage.  Eventually she just gave up and went for it, flashing Carmilla a ‘bear with me’ kind of grin.

“You see a lot of other girls,” Laura began cautiously.  “You go to a lot of parties.  Are you _sure_ you didn’t run into Betty?”

Carmilla shook her head in disbelief, snickering long-sufferingly.  She sat straighter, tucking her legs to her side.  “God.  Champagne and stars, and you still can’t let it go, can you?  Some aspiring Perseus, desperate to rescue Andromeda from the evil sea monster.”

Her new position gave her height, a calculated manoeuvre.  She took full advantage, leaning tantalisingly near.

“To my credit, at least I managed to divert your attention.”

Her words were soft against Laura’s ear, and when Laura turned fully to look at her they were so close their noses brushed.  Laura’s eyelids fluttered closed, but she stopped just short of the kiss, drawing on her last reserves of self-control.

“I’m pretty sure I’m Andromeda in this scenario,” she said against Carmilla’s lips.  The gravity of her tone gave Carmilla pause.  It was enough for Laura to pull back, her greatest achievement of the night so far.  She searched Carmilla’s eyes pleadingly.

“What happens to them?” she asked.  “You know I’m having the same dreams as the others.  And, whatever you think about my investigation, I think I have a right to know what’s going to happen to me.  Isn’t there anything you want to tell me?”

Carmilla held her gaze a few moments more.  Sighing, she tucked a lock of Laura’s hair back, brushing her jaw before dropping her hand to her lap.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you, creampuff,” she said confidingly.  “I’m nocturnal, remember?  They’d have to get past the night watch.”

A bust.  What had Laura expected, really – a re-enactment of _Interview with the Vampire_?  She must have looked as disappointed as she felt, because Carmilla actually tried to comfort her, sliding an arm around her shoulders.  Her heat was back.  Her scent was back.  Her voice purred through every part of Laura.  Laura stretched her legs out in front of her, aware that they were falling asleep.

“Besides,” Carmilla said, “who else could I annoy this much?”

“Do you want a list?” Laura asked grudgingly.  A wry smile ghosted her lips.  Carmilla matched it.

They talked more after that.  Carmilla’s arm remained firmly around Laura, and Laura rested her weight against her.  She tried a couple more times to discuss the missing girls, but eventually admitted defeat, too sleepy to navigate the whirls and lattices of Carmilla’s formidable charisma.

Before she knew it, it was three-thirty in the morning, long past Laura’s usual bedtime and not yet Carmilla’s.  Laura was fighting to keep her eyes open.  Her head felt heavy, so she laid it on Carmilla shoulder.  With time, their conversations became increasingly one-sided: she was barely responding anymore, preferring to listen to the smooth, calm cadence of Carmilla’s words.

Pet names beckoned beyond the backs of her eyelids.  Somewhere far away Laura heard herself insist she was awake, but the darkness lulled her, pulling her into itself.  It was warm, after all, and it smelt of apples, and its voice was quite possibly the most beautiful sound Laura had ever heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know next to nothing about constellations, so I expected to have my work cut out centring a date around them. I was wrong: all of the constellations in this chapter were visible over Austria during October/November 2014.
> 
> As such, I'd like to thank everyone who has read, kudosed, commented and stuck with this story, but also ancient astronomers, who apparently shipped Hollstein just as much as the rest of us.


	5. Candid

Laura awoke to soft sheets and the scent of her own laundry detergent.  When she came around fully, she found herself in her own bed.  Light streamed in from the window behind, catching on the screen of her laptop.  It sat open, just as she had left it… just like normal.

For a few moments, the sight of it, the feeling of waking up the way she always did, tricked her into complacency.  Then the surreal events of the previous evening rushed back in detail: scuppered ambush plans and a date with a sociopath.  Conversations.  Constellations.  Corsets, leather jackets… kisses.  And then…

Laura wracked her brain.  Then what?  How had it ended?  She sat up abruptly to find Carmilla on her own side of the room, out for the count.  Looking down at herself, she realised she was in her pyjamas.  The toes of last night’s shoes poked from beneath the bed, arranged neatly side by side.  Her dress had been hung over the back of her chair.

She didn’t remember coming back here.   Had she undressed herself?  Or had Carmilla…?  A blush climbed her neck; she decided not to think about it.  She glanced at the clock in the corner of the room.  Ten-thirty.  She supposed it figured, given how long they’d be out.

Oh, God: Danny.  She and the others were probably climbing the walls by now.  Laura had to call them, but where was her phone?

Oh.  Right.  Laura climbed out of bed and gingerly approached the foot of Carmilla’s.  The phone wasn’t on the duvet, so she stood on her tiptoes, attempting to see down the side.  Nothing.

Laura cast a nervous glance at still-sleeping Carmilla.  As carefully as she could, she placed one hand on the mattress, easing her weight down slowly so as not to disturb her, and leaned over, feeling along the far edge.

“It’s on the dresser, cupcake.”

Laura almost jumped out of her skin.  Carmilla was now awake, eyes heavy-lidded, looking at her like the cat that had gotten the cream.  Her hair was tussled and she was wearing…

“Is that my t-shirt?”

“Oh.  Yeah,” Carmilla said, glancing down at it almost guiltily.  It was midnight blue with a white TARDIS printed on the front.  “Sorry, I ran out of Betty originals.  I’ll wash it when I’m done, okay?”

Carmilla reached over her chest to rub her shoulder.   The action squeezed her cleavage together.  Laura was dumbfounded.  Oh yeah, there was _definitely_ no bra under there.

“It’s fine, really.  I wore your jacket, right?” she said, flustered.  Her voice was high-pitched; it cracked as she spoke.  She looked down at herself.  “Hey, uh, speaking of clothes…”

Carmilla guessed what she meant.  She smiled, blinking slowly.  “I helped.  I didn’t look.”

“Right.”

“I mean it,” Carmilla said genuinely.  “You fell asleep up there so I carried you down.  That dress didn’t look comfortable to sleep in so I asked if you wanted to take it off and you agreed.  Lifted your arms up and everything.  Turns out you’re even helpful in your sleep.”

That certainly sounded like something she would do.  Laura was inclined to believe her, but she stared Carmilla down all the same, unsure what to do with this mortifying new piece of information.  Eventually Carmilla took it upon herself to snap her out of it, arching her eyebrows and peering at her like she was checking for a concussion.

“You also talked a lot.  Something about letting a cat into your bed?”

Laura scrunched her nose.  “I don’t remember—”

“‘Don’t bite me, kitty.’”

“That’s not—”

“‘Good kitty.  Now you can sleep with me.’”

“Okay.  _You_ need to go back to sleep,” Laura giggled nervously.  “It’s like, what, the early hours for you?”

She crossed the room, spied her phone exactly where Carmilla had said it would be and checked the screen: 107 missed calls, most of which were from Danny.  Laura winced.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?” Laura said distractedly.

“I enjoyed your company.”

Laura spun to face her.  Carmilla looked down at the duvet, teasing the corner with slender fingers, and looked back up into her eyes.  “Perhaps we could do it again soon?”

Carmilla looked so hopeful and apprehensive.  There was something endearing about her this way: bed-headed and half-asleep.  She was beautiful, still – beautiful to a point of absurdity – but she was also relaxed.  Disarmed.  Candid.  Laura softened.

“I’d like that,” she replied.

Carmilla’s smile was faint, but it lit her alight somehow.  It lit Laura alight, too.  It shone into her chest and heated her heart, burning lingering doubts from all of its corners.  Laura found herself smiling back.  For a few long moments, they maintained eye contact.

“And who knows?” Carmilla teased.  “Next time you might even last the whole night.”

“I’m not the one on anti-social time,” Laura jibed gently.  Carmilla smirked but breathed a deep, fatigued breath.  Laura’s smile widened.  Vampire or not, it was very, very sweet.  “You’re wilting.  Get some rest.  I think I can forgive your epically whacked out body clock.”

“In the ranks of university students, _you’re_ the oddball, cupcake.”

Carmilla settled back down into bed, shutting her eyes and cuddling closer into what Laura realised only too late was her yellow pillow.  Laura watched her, without really intending to, until her breathing even out.  Closed were beguiling eyes.  Down was her guard.  Laura’s shirt peeked from beneath the covers, and something about the sight made Laura feel inexplicably proud of herself.  With difficulty she looked away, back to her phone screen… back to 107 missed calls.

Laura knew she had put herself in a very dangerous situation last night.  Every aspect of their half-baked plan had blown up in their faces like a juggernaut in a Michael Bay movie.  Sure, there was a gap in her memory, and, sure, she was going to have one hell of a lot of explaining to do to her friends.  Yet, in spite of all of it, there was one important fact Laura couldn’t overlook: she was still very much alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it!
> 
> Boy, this chapter took a while, but hopefully it was worth the wait for all of you. This particular story may be over, but I might make this AU into a series, covering 'all the consequences thereafter' as promised. Maybe in time for Season Three? We'll see what happens. (And for anyone wondering, there is a reason no-one else has come to find Laura yet. I've figured at least that much out.)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this, because I enjoyed writing it, and thank you for your kudos and kind words. Until next time!


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